Money and Success
by Nuuhtella
Summary: A one-shot about the origins of a particular shop...


Written for the QLFC Season 5 - Finals: Round 1

Tutshill Tornados - Chaser 2

Prompt: Write about someone who visits Knockturn Alley often.

Optional Prompts:  
[3] Now that was an awfully big threat. - OUAT (quote)  
[7] History (word)  
[12] The Boxer by Jerry Douglas (song)

 **Word Count:** 2,993

* * *

Snow was falling heavily upon the dimly lit streets of London. The Thames had frozen once again and a few reckless people were still skating atop it, despite the late hour. Across the road, a small boy stood underneath a gas lamp. He had stretched his cap as far down over his ears as possible and had pulled his coat around himself in an attempt to keep warm, though he was still visibly shivering. The boy was holding out a small, tin can to passers-by. Usually, many didn't give him the time of day but occasionally someone would put in a tuppence or two. In the past, some had cursed him out and made to box his ears but he had always successfully avoided their attacks.

As it was Christmas, however, people were being far more generous. A rather tall man, who looked as though he were on his way home from work, had given him a five pound note earlier that day. He had never fetched so much from one individual before. Another gentleman and his wife had emptied their loose change into his can. He didn't count how much was in there but he knew that it was a fair amount.

The boy checked the contents of his can and, with a satisfied smile, popped it into the inner pocket of his jacket. He took off at a sprint, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. As usual, he took the back alleys. They were the best way to get around London if you knew the way and he had spent his entire life on those streets so knew them well. Finally, he turned a corner and had reached the familiar old pub. He ducked inside and dusted the snow away from his jacket. Old John, the barman, smiled at the boy.

"Good day for it?" said Old John.

"Not bad."

"The usual, is it?"

"Yep," he said. The Boy pulled a small, leather pouch from his pocket and withdrew eight Knuts and placed them on top of the bar.

"Go sit down, lad. I'll bring it over," said Old John.

He walked over to his usual table in the corner of the room and sunk into the familiar armchair. The bar was almost empty except from two other patrons. One was shrouded entirely by his cloak and seemed to be eating live slugs. The other was muttering under her breath and looking down at the table as though something important was written there, despite it being blank. The boy chose to direct his gaze to the open fire and watched as the flames danced around. A large plate filled with a delicious-smelling roast dinner was placed in front of him along with a large jug of milk, a glass, and a smaller plate filled with some bread.

"There ya go, young Frewin." The boy looked up at him and Old John gave a short laugh. "Sorry lad. You just remind me so much of your old dad that I slipped up for a second."

"S'alright."

"Enjoy your supper."

Old John walked away and he began to tuck into his dinner. He took his time and wiped every last bit of his gravy up with the bread. Finally, he finished his food, stood up and donned his coat. He gave Old John a farewell wave and headed out into the courtyard through the rearward door. He took his wand out and tapped the brick which caused an archway to appear before him. Bracing himself for the cold, he made his way down Diagon Alley, ran down into Knockturn Alley, and finally found himself in Horizont Alley. He glanced up and down the street to ensure he was alone before pulling open the doors which led into the cellar. The shop upstairs didn't use it and so he had been living there for the past few years.

He had been on his own for almost four years now. His father had left him before he was born and his mother had died a few years previously after contracting Dragon Pox. The only things he had left of her now were an old, heavy locket and her wand which he used as his own. He couldn't perform many spells due to the fact that he was not eleven years old yet and therefore had not been trained. In fact, he was sure that he never would be for whom in Hogwarts would even know where to find him.

Anyway, as far as he was concerned he was alright on his own.

~P~

Spring had sprung and with it brought what seemed like never-ending rain to the city of London. He had turned eleven a few weeks prior, though the day had gone unmarked. Birthday celebrations were of no interest to him. In fact, he considered them foolish, unimportant, and a waste of good money.

After a quick breakfast of a slice of bread with jam and a warm mug of tea, he donned his cap and left for the day. First, he went to the bank in order to exchange the Muggle money he had earned from the previous day's begging. He hadn't fetched very much, most likely due to the heavy downpour of rain, but luckily he still had a tidy sum stashed away back at the den. The Goblin serving him looked over the counter at him as though he were a pile of dragon dung. Fortunately, he was used to that kind of treatment from the Gringotts Goblins. He visited the bank quite often and observed how much the creatures clearly disliked wizards. He didn't much care. As Goblins, they were beneath all wizards by right.

Though, he couldn't deny that he did admire their respect for money.

As he left the bank, he was still deciding on what to do. Begging on the Muggle streets was usually fruitful and less hassle but, with the rain, he was unsure whether it would yield anything that day. The other option was to see whether there were any jobs down in Knockturn Alley. He went there often to pick up the odd job but it wasn't steady work and tended to be unreliable and, occasionally, dangerous.

However, it seemed to be the only option available to him in such weather. With a sigh, he jumped the last few steps and landed out in the rain. He ran past the few people who were braving the shops that morning and slipped down into Knockturn Alley. Knockturn was rather emptier than usual but, thankfully, he spotted the one wizard he could usually rely on for work stood inside of his shop. The bell tinkered as he entered and the shopkeeper looked up.

"Ah! What can I do for yous today, Scampy?"

"Alright, Mr Grimsbane? Got any work goin' by any chance?"

"Work! What cheek. 'Aven't 'eard from you for weeks, boy. Why should I chuck any work your way?"

"C'mon, Mr Grimsbane. Have a heart! I'm just a poor boy, askin' only for a workman's wage. I come lookin' for a job, but got no offers. You're my last hope."

Grimsbane waved his hands at him.

"Get off that wet stuff, boy. No place for it with me. But, s'alright, I do 'ave a job as it 'appens. Get it done quickly and quietly and there could be a permanent position on the offin' for ya."

~P~

A few months had passed since he had started his job with Grimsbane. It was the first work he'd had that had been a constant, though, for how long that would last he didn't know. It wasn't what you'd call pleasant work but it kept him from begging on the Muggle streets and taking unreliable jobs from anyone who'd have him. He was very grateful for the opportunity.

Which is the reason why he had ripped up the wretched letter. It had arrived for him a few weeks earlier and had just appeared inside of his den one morning. He had opened it to see that it was from Hogwarts inviting him to study at the school. Ripping up the letter was the best decision in his mind. There wasn't anything he could learn in a school that he couldn't learn out in the world, in his opinion. And he couldn't earn money whilst stuck in a classroom.

He put the letter out of his mind rather easily and so was extremely surprised when he arrived back at the den from Knockturn to find a stranger sitting on his bed. He appraised the wizard for a few moments before cautiously moving towards him. The wizard in question looked rather stern and stood up as he entered the room.

"Hello, there. You must be-"

"Never mind all that. Who, in Merlin's name, are you?" he said.

"My name is Armando Dippet. I am a teacher at Hogwarts school of witch-"

"You're from Hogwarts?"

"Yes. As I was saying-" Dippet said.

"Well, you're wasting your time. I ain't goin' to no school."

Armando Dippet blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

"What do you mean 'not going'? You have to go!"

"Why's that then?"

"Because… Because," the teacher spluttered. "Because you _must_ get your magical education."

"I fink I'll learn more out in the world, thanks. An' I'll be earnin' at the same time. All going to your stuck up school will do is drain away my money."

"You have so much of it, do you?"

Armando was looking around the den with a sneer on his face. He felt his entire face go red.

"It don't look like much but I've earned what I've got," he said angrily.

"No doubt. Now, the Hogwarts Express leaves on September first from King's Cross. Platform nine and three quarters, don't forget it. Here is your ticket and list of school supplies you will require. I shall see you in just over a week."

"But-"

"No buts. It is law that you must attend for at least two years. No more arguments. Good day."

He watched in disbelief as the wizard threw some Floo powder into the fireplace he rarely used and disappeared into the flames. With a huge rage, he let out a large roar and made to tear the ticket up and the letter along with it. However, he found himself unable to do it and pocketed the things before running out and heading back to the shop. Fortunately, Grimsbane was still downstairs and listened to his tale aptly.

"… An' now he's saying that I've gots to go because it's the law!"

Grimsbane was quiet for a moment before replying.

"Well then, you best get packin', Scamps."

"Wh- what?"

"If ya don't turn up then they'll jus' come lookin' for ya, boy. Best to just grin and bear it. S'only two years and a bit of an education will do nothin' but 'elp ya."

"But, what about my job?"

"Well, yous won't be able to continue on in that particular position while you're in school but I do 'ave another proposition for ya."

~P~

He had been at Hogwarts for the past five years and was getting ready to take his O.W.L. exams in a few weeks' time. Although he had been reluctant to come and learn he was glad that he had come in the end. When he arrived, he was one of the worst in the class. He was expecting to be one of the best, even more so after being sorted into Slytherin, and so it came as an unwelcome dose of reality. Since then, however, he had become one of the best in his year and felt sure he'd get top marks in all of his subjects.

With each summer and Christmas holiday break, he had gone back to working at the shop for Mr Grimsbane as well as the jobs he had him do while in school. It was one of those particular jobs he was doing at that moment in time. He had recruited two of his friends to work for Grimsbane also and they often helped him out. Tonight he had both of them flanking him. They were just finishing off the job when the room was suddenly illuminated by light.

"What on _earth_ is going on?"

He looked up to find Professor Dippet glaring down at them. He dropped the Hufflepuff girl he had been holding by the scruff of her neck and her body lay limp on the floor. Dippet immediately pushed him out of the way and began to wave his wand over the girl while muttering some words. The caretaker walked in at that moment and, after some instruction from Professor Dippet, took the girl up to the hospital wing. It was then that Professor Dippet turned his wrath onto the three of them.

"Headmaster's office. NOW!"

~P~

Despite being expelled before being able to take his exams, he felt he had done rather well for himself. No longer was he living in squalor, but rather was in the small flat above the shop. Grimsbane had taken him back on as full time and offered him the flat upstairs at a good rate. He'd jumped at the chance and had spent the past few years working for the man.

The job he was currently on was taking longer than predicted. He flicked the end of his cigarette to let the ash fall as he waited for the dealer to arrive. He was stood in a shadowy alcove in Knockturn where he had planned to meet the guy. This would be the fourth time he had tried to meet this guy as each of the previous times he had cancelled. Fortunately, luck was on his side as a raspy voice called his name from the shadows. He moved towards the figure in the darkness and nodded his assent that it was, indeed, him.

"Have you got the money?"

"Depends, 'ave you got the goods?"

"No, that's not how it works. Show me the money and I'll show you the lot."

He took another step forward and dropped the butt of his cigarette to the ground before grounding it into the floor with his foot.

"Nah," he said. "Don't think so, mate. That ain't how this is gonna go. I'm not the one who's left the other 'anging on three previous occasions. So, you can show me the goods or you can bet ol' Grimsbane's gonna 'ear about this. An' he won't be pleased."

"Now that was an awfully big threat!" said the man. He had tried to sound forceful but was visibly shaking with fear. "You'd better hope you can deliver on that, boy!"

He laughed.

"You're mistaken, sir. That wasn't a threat… that was a promise."

~P~

It had been almost fifteen years since he had left school and taken the job with Grimsbane. Over five years ago he had also set up his own personal side business in the trade. Grimsbane did take a percentage of the profits but, so far, business was booming so he was still taking a tidy sum home with him. He admired the man greatly and looked up to him almost like a father, but he'd never tell Grimsbane that.

He decided to head down to the shop since he was hardly ever there nowadays and turned the familiar path to Knockturn. He hadn't seen Grimsbane in a while and thought he might as well catch up with him as he was in the area. As he walked in, the familiar sound of the bell tinkled over his head. However, he was greeted with a rather unfamiliar sight. Two wizards he did not know were stood behind the counter, leaning over a clipboard. They stood up abruptly as he walked in.

"No business today," said one. " Shop's closed. Get out."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"An' you are?"

"I'm the man about to buy the premises."

He took a step back in disbelief. It couldn't be.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"You heard."

"Wha' does Grimsbane 'ave to say about this?"

The two men exchanged a significant look and the one who had been silent this entire time took a step towards him.

"Son," said the second man. "Mr Grimsbane died over a week ago."

"No…. h-he can't 'ave."

"I'm sorry."

"But…."

His voice trailed off and he sunk down onto a nearby stool. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

"Come on! Let's get this deal done, man."

"Why, yes. Of course."

"Wait!" he said, standing up. "You're the one sellin' this place?"

"Yes," said the second man.

"Then let me make an offer."

"This is preposterous!" said the first man. "I am the one who is buying this building."

"I'll give ya ten percent more than wha' he's payin'."

The estate agent raised his eyebrows and looked down at his clipboard.

"You can't seriously be considering this?" said the first man.

"Why not?" he said.

"Because _you_ clearly can't afford it."

He barked out a laugh.

"Oh yeah? Try me."

~P~

A few weeks later he found himself signing the contracts which would make him the new owner of Grimsbane's shop. The estate agent had almost leapt with joy when he saw how much he was offering. As they made to part ways the estate agent surveyed him one last time.

"You have a lot of history with this place, don't you?"

He smiled.

"You have no idea."

~P~

Years had passed since he had bought the shop of his deceased friend. The business was still thriving and he'd finally put his own name above the door. In fact, the business had done so well over the years that he'd been able to take a step back. Although, that was also due to him acquiring himself a new business partner a few years back. A man named Mr Borgin.

Their two names would be immortalised in the stone.

Mr Borgin and Mr Caractacus Burke.


End file.
